Whirled Cinema

In the world of music, television, news, and other popular media, there is perhaps no place more widely used to portray the many views and perspectives of the world than in the realm of cinematic entertainment. Across the globe, filmmakers have attempted to alter, celebrate, and recreate real life on the big screen. These artists have the power to bring many tabooed or unrealized subjects to the eyes of viewers worldwide; and when this happens, we have begun to understand the term “World Cinema.” As Americans, we tend to absorb large amounts of propaganda in the media, without even realizing how it may alter and close our minds. In an attempt to escape the endless cycle of ignorance and close-mindedness that plagues us, many have turned to the writings, beliefs, studies, and films of foreign countries, analyzing and comparing the similarities and differences among the various types in a search for greater truth. Here, I will compare the Danis Tanovic film No Man’s Land, to Turtles Can Fly, written and directed by Bahman Ghobadi. I will discuss how the two films portray global warfare, and its affects on the nations it tears apart. I will also address the different views of world powers, such as the United States and the UN.

Danis Tanovic’s film, No Man’s Land, is a film that focuses on the Bosnia-Herzegovinian conflict, its global implications, the interference of the UN, and the triviality of war itself. The story begins with a relief squad that gets lost in a deep fog. When the sun rises, they are decimated by enemy guns, leaving only two survivors in a mine filled trench. When the enemy soldiers are sent to inspect the trench, a scuffle leaves two enemy soldiers in a face off, while one lays helpless, immobile on an active mine. The events of the film expose the horrors of war, as well as the tragedy that ensues when neutral forces interfere.

Turtles Can Fly, is an Iranian film that focuses on similar concepts of war. However, it is played out through the eyes and shattered lives of the forgotten Iranian children who find refuge in the hills of its borders, fighting desperately to survive the violent conflict that surrounds them. The main character is a thirteen year old boy named Satellite who leads the young orphans living near the Turkey-Iran border. They pick mines from the neighboring fields for payment, while Satellite installs satellites for the people who eagerly await the news and updates leading up to the fall of Saddam Hussein.

First, an uninformed reader should know that the trademark throughout Ghobadi’s films is the prevalence of the war theme. In his previous films, A Time for Drunken Horses and Marooned in Iraq, acclaimed writer/director focuses on plight of his people, caused by the endless wars that have ravaged the land and devastated its people. In Turtles Can Fly, he continues on this track, using the film’s relatively large number of orphaned children to bring light to Iran’s situation. New York Times reviewer A.O. Scott captures the film’s purpose in a sentence: “The film is less concerned with politics, though, than with the struggles of daily life, particularly those of the local children, many of them orphans and refugees, some of them maimed by mines and otherwise scarred by war.” (“Depicting Kurds' Misery with Tough Lyricism.” NY Times.18 Feb. 2005) Indeed, Ghobadi portrays the pain felt by the refugees through the eyes of the gentlest, most innocent victims of war. The children that comprise the greater majority of the film’s cast, however, are not merely symbols of the Iranian struggle, but of strength. The harsh conditions that have mentally and physically damaged the young kids who continue to fight for survival are also the trials which serve to fortify the wills of those that overcome:

The hardships these children have faced are horrifying, and Mr. Ghobadi neither sweetens nor sensationalizes them, which makes "Turtles Can Fly" all the more painful to watch. It is a heartbreaking film, and cruelty sometimes seems to be not only its subject but its method. Like the child on a high cliff that is one of its recurring images, the film walks up to the edge of hopelessness and pauses there, waiting to see what happens next.

(A.O. Scott. NY Times.18 Feb. 2005)

In this film, Ghobadi depicts the pain and suffering of children in order to show the everyday lives of people who are affected by war. The loss of family, friends, and even limbs is brought to life on the big screen. This film festival hit opens the eyes of all its viewers to the harsh reality that those forgotten refugees and orphans are exposed to each day.

Ghobadi also uses mise-en-scene on numerous occasions to emphasize certain themes. At the start of the movie, we see a young boy, Satellite, installing the all important dishes that connect the refugees to the outside world, giving them vital information about the progress of the war. As the film progresses, one can see how the people watch and wait anxiously as the fall of Saddam looms on the horizon. Their hopes rest upon the shoulders of the U.S. army whose presence becomes increasingly evident. However, at the end of the film, the viewer is left to watch as the soldiers come marching through the town with tanks and guns, and how Satellite, who was among the most supportive of their presence, turns away from them as rain falls with his face to the ground, seeming as if he has lost all hope and faith that their success will actually save the village. This parallels the views of Ghobadi’s people, as they were let down by the country who first saved, then forgot them; leaving them in limbo as their “saviors” pursued other goals, adding the conflict rather than ending it.

Danis Tanovic’s film, No Man’s Land, continues to open ignorant eyes to the atrocities of war, something he knows well after spending two years on the front lines of Sarajevo, filming for the Bosnian Army. In this film, the viewer is also subject to the vision of pain and death caused by the ceaseless war in Bosnia. Tanovic brings the scope of the violent war to a smaller scale, with one soldier representing each side. Ciki, the Bosnian soldier, and Nino, the Serb argue viciously about who initiated the violence, while the booby trapped Bosnian, Cera, lies motionless lest he detonate the mine on which he impatiently lies. As the soldiers begin to tell stories and become acquainted, as well as work together to keep the mine from detonating, the viewer can clearly see the similarities between both sides (especially after the two bickering soldiers realize they have dated the same woman). Tanovic uses the scene of the two enemies-turned-friends to convey the fact that it is possible to set differences aside and talk through disagreements, but as this is seldom the road taken in life, it is not the resolution to this film. For when the soldiers become hostile again, they each aim guns at each other, with gun barrels just feed above Cera, who tells them both to “cut it out.” The camera view is from the ground, emphasizing the barrels of the angry men, ready to fire, as well as the exhausted victim of war who has had enough. Tanovic implies that the war is futile. It solves nothing, yet causes countless deaths; not only affecting the men willing to die for their nations, but destroying the lives of all who get caught in the crossfire.

Throughout the film, the presence of the UN serves to bring to light the power’s neutrality in the face of war and death. They are a force neither army wishes to provoke, yet they lack the will or humanity to do any good with their position. Instead, the UN is portrayed as a meddlesome nation, capable only of unwanted interference and of adding further complication to the fray. When a UN tank arrives on the scene, camera angles once again help to convey the intrusive, powerful aura that becomes them. The camera provides a close up of the white tank’s big, blue lettering, as the letters, U.N., fill the screen. The tank pulls up over the edge of the trench with a sharp halt, seeming to show the UN’s intrusive, arrogant, and almost ominous nature.

When an ambitious reporter teams up with a UN soldier who is tired of doing nothing in the face of the chaos that surrounds him, they attempt to force the UN into action. However, the results of their endeavor suffice only to drive Tanovic’s point home: “humanity is the tragic victim of war.” (Travers, Peter. Rolling Stone. 6 Dec. 2001). As a UN mine expert comes, the hopes of the soldiers grow, but tragedy is the end result. In a violent conflict, the two soldiers kill each other on national television, the reporters concerned only whether or not the action was captured on camera, while Cera is left alone, still trapped, waiting for aid that will never come.

Writers and directors such a Ghobadi and Tanovic are popping up in various cinemas worldwide. Their aim is to bring much needed attention to the unseen suffering of warring nations. Armed with camera crews, microphones, and willing actors, they attempt to recreate the savage reality that goes unnoticed by the world. As they use their life experiences and those of their people to create heart wrenching, eye opening films, they simultaneously bridge the gap between the haves and the have-nots. Rather than enlisting and becoming part of the violence this is how they fight to end the whirling, perpetual darkness of war.

Works Cited

• "Danis Tanovic." IMDB. 11 Mar. 2009 .

· Scott, A.O. "Depicting Kurds' Misery with Tough Lyricism." New York Times 18 Feb. 2005. .

• Travers, Peter. "No Man's Land: Review." Rolling Stone 6 Dec. 2001. .